To dear Bennett Hilton,

Greetings, hero who saved the world. How have you been faring?

I have been keenly observing the trail you and your friends are blazing through history. I hear you’ve become the leader of a new faction called “Reformists,” fighting against the old ways and corruption of the traditional Goddess faith.

It pleases me to see such clear strength in your actions. And the path you’re treading is undoubtedly one of radiant light, which fills me with pride.

But battling the ruling powers is always a daunting task, isn’t it? Just as a prepared sorcerer is strong enough to fear nothing in this world, the entrenched power of the old guard, solidified over many years, is formidable.

I worry you may be facing difficulties now, especially with the grand festival approaching, much like myself.

The Academy is as peaceful as ever. We fend off the sinister reach of dark sorcerers as they come, and the unseen threats are preempted by our innate luck.

To share a slice of that fortune, I’ve succeeded in slaying the queen of nightmares, known as “The Virgin Drinker of Pleasure,” who was encroaching upon the Elmest territory.

The movements of “The Corpse Flower that Feeds on Fear” remain undetected, but reducing the dark sorcerers’ sphere of influence like this, I believe, will create decisive opportunities for us.

I hope this news brings you some joy.

Now, I must explain the difficulties I’m facing, which is also why I’ve sent this letter. How wonderful it would be if we could share our troubles and assist each other?

I have a faith.

A star that shines in my heart, I quietly and tenderly worship my goddess. This faith is ancient and—seems unshakable, as if it will last forever.

However, after a series of events, I’ve acquired an additional faith. To a playful and seductive deity, possessing a beauty that could enchant all creation.

It is a clear virtue to pursue and serve only one.

Yet, my heart chooses not to select just one faith but to embrace and revere both. They are both too important to cast aside.

In that sense, I seek your advice, Bennett.

You’ve cunningly chased and captured two rabbits, holding them close without faltering. How did you manage that?

If you could, would you share your secret with me?

If writing is insufficient, I am willing to visit you. I await your prompt reply, as long as your heart allows. Cheering for your journey.

From the Academy—The Sorcerer Dreaming of Reunion.

—

Bennett’s party sat around the circular table, heads wrapped in thought. The challenge they faced was compounded by a letter from the mad professor at the Academy, adding another spoonful of worry.

Bennett peered at the letter laid out on the table, muttering wearily,

“This is why I dislike sorcerers. They always write their letters so ambiguously…”

“Have you ever corresponded with a sorcerer?”

Tara, struggling with her magnifying glasses and the letter, lifted her head at Bennett’s pen pal story, curious if it might be a female sorcerer.

Bennett answered with his arms crossed.

“Back in my dark wizard days… there were quite a few who wrote commands like this. I still remember them. ‘Behold the winged serpent that swallowed the gold coins, wishing for the crescent moonlight shattered by their fangs’—do you understand what it means?”

“Huh… Are you suggesting basilisk tooth care?”

“It was an order to plant a dagger in the head of a certain merchant.”

“Ugh.”

It’s as if they’re cursed to speak in riddles or they’ll die. Tara shuddered as she took off her magnifying glasses. If Bennett’s experience was right, this mad wizard’s letter might need to be twisted around three times to be understood.

“The first part of the letter is clear. No metaphors, just clarity.”

“Yeah. It says they’re keeping up with our ‘Reformist’ news.”

“It seems they already know we’re in considerable trouble. For someone extraordinary, it’s not just pleasantries.”

“…Considering he’s the mad wizard who unleashed a nightmare at the academy to weed out dark wizards, maybe he’s getting information in ways we can’t even imagine.”

The mad wizard had become friendly with Alexson at a faculty dinner, so in a way, it was a method Bennett’s party hadn’t thought of.

The significant trouble Bennett’s party faced.

It was closely related to the upcoming “Hero Selection Contest” in the holy city. The moment a hero is born in the Church of the Goddess, the saintess becomes bound to the hero’s party by ancient “Rules.”

The “Rules” are different from the lines written in the holy scriptures. The “Rules” are decreed by the Goddess herself, and thus, absolute.

Unlike the ‘good words’ like be generous to others, do not doubt the king who leads you, the “Rules” hold a significant religious meaning.

Tara customizing her saintess robe into rags, even if it causes a scandal, is not grounds for excommunication. But if she defies the “Rules”…

The divine power granted by the Goddess would be cut off instantly, and those old cardinals would excommunicate Tara in a heartbeat.

“Well, the divine power has been cut off long ago anyway.”

Tara snorted. She had been cut off from divine power since the previous evening and had been siphoning others’ divine power to maintain her guise as a saintess. So, the Goddess’s punishment was not a fear for her.

However, the latter, the cardinals’ excommunication offensive, was dangerous.

“There’s no escaping the political onslaught. I’ll have to step down from the saintess position, and our ‘Reformist’ faction will be shattered to pieces.”

“And if you simply join the hero’s party…”

“If that hero is a puppet of the cardinals, it’ll be hard for you to survive. Saintess Tara will die in an unfortunate accident on the road.”

Therefore.

Bennett’s party must either secure the hero’s position for the “Reformists” in the upcoming “Hero Selection Contest.”

Or at least, prevent a hero from being chosen from the cardinal’s forces.

In the midst of discussing how to do this, a letter from the mad wizard arrived. As if he knew exactly what was happening.

So they were wracking their brains for interpretation. Perhaps this letter might hold a way out.

-……

“How about it, Nioré. Finished analyzing?”

Even as Bennett and Tara briefly went off on a tangent, Niore, who had been silently reading the letter over and over, finally came to a conclusion.

“It seems like a letter with no substantial content…?”

“Hmm?”

“Though it’s worded in a roundabout way, it doesn’t seem to carry any grand meaning. Just an everyday letter… Oh, maybe it’s a love advice request for Bennett.”

Because if it really was sent after knowing the full extent of the crisis that Bennett’s party faced, wouldn’t it contain a bit more information? And there’s no sense of urgency in the handwriting either.

And if the mad magician truly intended to send something serious, then instead of this letter, it would be more blatant… Something like entertainment and pleasure. A sense of mischief seems to be embedded in it.

But then.

“Have we been overworking Niore too much…?”

“It seems so. This can’t possibly be a love letter. Let’s put aside the paperwork and data analysis and take a break, Niore.”

“No, I’m perfectly fine…”

“Come here. Let me lend you a knee.”

Bennett gently stroked Niore’s nape, pressing down to tilt her head. Niore didn’t resist the force and comfortably laid her head on Bennett’s thigh.

“The Hero Selection Contest.”

A grand event promoted by the Archbishop faction of the Goddess Church, its purpose was to call forth hero candidates from across the nation and select the most suitable hero needed for the continent.

Rumor had it that after the preliminaries, three tasks were prepared, and passing all of them would naturally leave only one hero remaining. However.

“There must be some trickery afoot.”

Following Tara into the Goddess Church and aligning with the “Reformist” faction, they clashed with the Archbishop’s forces at every turn while rectifying the church’s corruption. Thus, their experience allowed them to see through the Archbishop’s intentions clearly.

They are pigs lusting for power.

From the trend of conserving divine power, the elitism of sacred magic, to welcoming those with heavier pockets over the suffering masses. Bennett could distinctly feel the Archbishops’ greed.

Fairness was not something he expected.

The hero candidate they were backing—Benjamin. A mountain of schemes must be prepared to make him the hero.

Bennett looked up at the portraits of the hero candidates posted on the wall. Then he found the droopy seaweed hair. That’s it.

The sharp-faced young man with deep green hair hanging down. Benjamin.

According to the background check, he was vile and lecherous. Even before becoming a hero candidate, he caused numerous incidents, and afterwards, he continued to engage in problematic behavior like threatening others.

He paraded the streets leading a group that followed him.

A wildcat that does not restrain its desires.

Such a problem child was chosen by the Archbishop forces as their pawn. And they were backing him wholeheartedly. Bad rumors were buried with money, and fabricated tales of virtue were spread throughout the streets.

Was he chosen because he was easy to manipulate? Or was there some unknown merit to picking Benjamin?

Or perhaps, they were confident they could win even with such a worthless man as their pawn…?

Beyond that portrait, to read the minds of the Archbishops clinging around the Pope, Bennett stared intently at the poster.

“The hero’s form is completely ruined. Seeing such a guy as a candidate, one can tell what the Goddess Church will be like in 100 years…”

A popping voice came from beside him.

It was a familiar voice. Unforgettable. But it was a voice that shouldn’t exist. Bennett had split his own heart in two.

“……”

“……”

But it was alive.

Eyes flickering with malice, sharp teeth that seemed to exist to devour human despair. Though adorned with a beautiful innocence on the outside, something terrible lurked within—

“Foreigner, you’re alive?”

“Oh, ohoho…? I am not such a person. I am Heiyingxian of the noble family.”

Ssshh.

“Keep talking.”

“I am the leader of the Haomen branch of the Open Sect, with more than ten mouths to feed and care for… Ah, damn it, eat this, you beast!”

Crash, bang!

Akshin-chan scraped the ground with her scaly soles, kicking up dust into Bennett’s eyes. But Bennett, as if expecting it, swung his sword to clear his vision and began the pursuit.

From noble mtl dot come

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

The overlapping sounds of short, quick footsteps and long, steady strides intertwined. Akshin-chan, feeling dizzy, ran desperately.

“Why, oh why…!”

“This time, I’ll slice you into ten pieces. And offer your corpse to Abraham’s tombstone.”

“Mima, Mima──!!”

It was Season 3 of the chase.